Psych - The Real Deal
by Elemental-Zer0
Summary: What if Shawn Spencer was actually psychic? What would be the repercussions? How would it affect the story? And what happens when criminal sights are set on him for his gift…?
1. Chapter One: Pilot - Prologue

**Psych: The Real Deal**

 **Summary:** What if Shawn Spencer was actually psychic? What would be the repercussions? How would it affect the story? And what happens when criminal sights are set on him for his gift…?

 **Disclaimer:** This is a fan-fiction story of the TV show; Psych, and is in no way affiliated with the actual show. All characters and other materials related to the show that are used are not intended to infringe on any Copyrights. Elemental-Zer0 takes sole responsibility for any mistakes or offence that may be taken but truly not meant. However, any characters that are not related to any copyrights are copyrighted to Elemental-Zer0 as is any variations to the plot set out in the show.

 **Authors Note:** So I played the "What If…?" game and came up with this little ditty. Don't expect regular or quick updates though as I'm a sporadic writer and my real world life kidnaps me often. Sorry in advance.

Anyways, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it _politely_ otherwise I shall ignore your words. (It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any real chapters…)

* * *

 **Chapter One: Pilot - Prologue**

1986 – Santa Barbara, USA

It was lunchtime and Detective Henry Spencer was having lunch with his ten year old son, Shawn in a small café. The sun was warm as it usually was this time of year and was shining through the café's front windows with a golden hue. The place was fairly busy but not too noisy.

"You do your homework?" Henry asked in a no nonsense tone. He was a fair man but strict when it came to his son's behaviour and priorities. As a law enforcement officer it was his job to instil order in chaos and having a son like Shawn was chaos in its most rawest form.

"Uh huh." The boy replied in a monotone and universally bored tone as he played with the beetroot salad on his plate.

"Finish with those beets?" Henry asked, noticing how the boy had actually finished most of the vegetable that had been served on his plate. Shawn looked up at the man then and put his knife and fork neatly onto the plate.

"Yep." He replied, popping the 'p' as any young boy his age would. Henry then watched as his son glanced over to the small mountain of cakes and treats protected under a glass cake lid on the counter. He watched in amusement as the boy licked his lips before turning back to his father to ask the inevitable question.

"Can I have the fudge cake?" Henry chuckled inside his head but only gave a mild appraising look at the hopeful boy. He thought for a second then decided it was time for more practice. The kid was going to earn that fudge cake, especially since it cost more than his coffee did.

"Close your eyes." He commanded. His eyes were stern and his lips set in determined battle stance. It was no secret how the two of them butted heads often, especially seeing how Shawn had inherited his father's stubborn streak. But Henry was older, wiser and a law enforcer with size and experience on his side. Shawn was still scrawny and thin.

The boy took a frustrated intake of air, arguments on the tip of his tongue. "Dad, I don't wanna…" but Henry cut him off quickly. He knew Shawn wasn't fond of his gift and he knew the boy would avoid using it if it wasn't for the constant games Henry played in hopes to train that gift into becoming a powerful weapon against criminal minds.

"Now." His tone was strict and he wasn't backing down on it. Shawn looked like he was going to fight back like nearly every other time they played this game come training exercise but it seemed that Shawn's gluttony for the fudge cake seemed to have won out. The boy sighed and closed his eyes, bringing his fingers up to his temples to help hone and concentrate. He rested his elbows on the café's table to help steady his concentration.

Henry looked up and found the café's exit sign glowing above the door which was behind his son. 'That'll do.' He thought to himself.

"Which letter is out in the exit sign?" He asked, looking back to his son to make sure he wasn't cheating. He watched a small frown furrow the kid's brow before he answered.

"The 'x'." Shawn replied. Henry nodded to himself, he was correct but gave the boy no room to think again.

"What colour is the vinyl?" He asked, crossing his arms in front of him. It had originally freaked him out how his son could see but not see things like a normal person. Sure, he himself, had always been able to notice things and remember them but that was police training; that was his mentality. Shawn didn't have years of experience under his belt and he was too young to have trained his mind into the calculating machine that Henry's was. To notice the smallest detail and remember it, was something that took years of practice and a certain paranoia that only came with the job. Shawn was able to pick up details and connections just as quick, if not quicker, than Henry could at just the tender age of ten. But if Henry was being honest, Shawn had been doing this for just over eight years, ever since the boy had learned to walk and talk. It sent goose bumps down his arms every time but he never showed it. That was the last thing Shawn needed; his own father to be awkward around him.

"What's vinyl?" Shawn asked.

The innocent question made him feel old. Could have done without that jab. "It's the stuff these seats are covered in." Henry explained with a level of patience honed from years on the force.

"Purple." Shawn answered.

This was too easy for the boy. Henry decided to up it a notch. "Ok listen up. Manager's name?" He asked. Knowing that the boy would've missed this one. It wasn't obvious who the manager was and he wasn't going to give up any more details.

"Who?" Shawn asked bewildered.

Henry knew then that the boy had been relying on his eidetic memory instead of his gift and decided to make the boy work harder. "She's wearing a nametag like the other staff members. You can find her." He encouraged and watched his son carefully. The boy gave a defeated slump and a huff. Then went still and very quiet for a few seconds.

Usually, for Shawn to "Find" somebody, he had to have something that resonated with them. That was usually something they kept hold of for sentimental reasons like a wedding ring or handkerchief. He could also "Find" someone by using a lock of their hair or a finger nail clipping. It wasn't nice, it was actually gross but he could do it. However to find someone without any personal object to use as a radar, that's where things got complicated. Ethically speaking, that is.

For Shawn, this was the part he hated most. He had to open his mind up to everyone in the café and discern from the rabble, the information that he was looking for. It felt wrong. Like he was invading their minds without permission. Your mind was your most private and sanctified place because no one would ever know what you were thinking. You could choose to share it or to keep it to yourself. Except for Shawn. Reading minds was a practice he'd found he could do from a young age. Ever since he could understand the spoken word he could hear words that hadn't been spoken too.

He sighed to himself and opened up to the room. A cacophony of internal voices joined the external voices and his head started to ache a little from all the noise. A pressure around his temples and sinuses began to gently squeeze but remained bearable. He filtered through the voices, looking for specific words and links in conversations. The word "Manager" popped up a few times but the first two were complaints about their own managers being assholes. The third mention of the word "manager" pertained to the florist shop and then finally the fourth "manager" was aimed at the café.

"~ _It's such a shame the old manager of this place passed away. Charlie was a lovely fellow._ ~" It was an older lady. Meredith Parkers, 72yrs old. Two sons, one grandson. She had a cat called Thomas and hated when her husband snored at night. She loved sunflowers and roses and wine but wouldn't drink it in front of her family. Shawn frowned internally, he was getting distracted. Shawn focussed on her completely, the other voices disappeared and faded to background noise. Her mind was the only one he was reading now. "~ _Still, this new manager is quite capable. I never thought Marie would be promoted but if Charlie wanted her to replace him then she must be something special._ ~" That was it. He found the information he needed. He closed his mind to hers immediately and allowed his gift to fade. The pressure in his head lessened and the background noise became normal again.

"Marie." He finally said. Henry felt a shiver go down his spine but it went unnoticed. "Can I have the cake now?" Shawn asked, his eyes were still closed and his hands were still by the side of his head. He knew he wasn't supposed to open his eyes unless his father told him to.

Henry was quiet for a moment. Shawn had cheated to begin with. He hadn't yet earned his cake. "How many hats?" Henry finally asked which received a frustrated groan.

"Uuhhh come on Dad…" Shawn complained. But Henry was standing his ground.

"Shawn you wanna piece of cake; how many hats are in the room?" He asked once more. Shawn huffed again before going still one more time.

This was a different exercise and Shawn had a little more ease working with it. It was almost like being able to see without using his eyes. He'd once read an article about astral projection and wondered, still did, if this was a form of astral projection. The information he read about described how one could project their image to another place and see and talk to the people there. While Shawn had never managed that specifically, he did feel like he was seeing the world through a projection. Almost as though he were a ghost watching from anywhere he wanted to view from.

At the thought of ghosts, Shawn shuddered a little. That was a whole other story. One he really wasn't comfortable with. He distracted himself with the task at hand. He found himself seeing the room from his own viewpoint. His physical eyes were still closed but he could see all around the room. He quickly located the hats his dad was asking about but got confused with one small technicality.

"Does a beanie count?" He asked, his voice sounded echo-ey from this projectual realm. He wasn't sure about the beanie because sometimes his dad changed the rules to keep him on his toes.

"What do you think?" Henry's voice echoed too.

Shawn knew what he had to do. He needed to find out for himself what he father thought about the beanie. He had to read his father's mind. He took a moment and finally he had all his answers. "Three." He said, knowing there was more because he'd seen it coming. He'd delved into his father's mind and had seen what he was thinking. Henry wanted descriptions.

"You didn't describe them." Sure enough, as soon as the older man had thought it, he'd said it out loud.

"That's not fair." Shawn complained. His head was starting to hurt after having stayed in the projectual realm for this long. But Henry's mind was set, Shawn could feel the resolute response before Henry spoke it.

"Time's almost up Shawn." Shawn growled internally as the waitress came over to their table. He fired off the descriptions with rapid fire accuracy.

"One has a flower, the one the lady's wearing. One has a picture of some kind of lion on the weird guy with the crooked tooth. The last one is on the chef." He said, he could see them clear as day in his little realm.

"What about the beanie?" Henry asked, wanting Shawn to confirm he'd read his father's thoughts while in the realm. Shawn felt his head pulse a little with the strain but did so anyway. Henry's thoughts had been loud and clear.

"The beanie is a cap, not a hat." He recited, word for word.

Henry was a little taken aback and paused for a few moments before relenting. "Alright, open your eyes." He said.

Shawn gave a weary sigh as he finally closed down his senses and opened his eyes. "Thank you…" he mumbled. Noticing how the waitress had stopped to watch the little display.

"Wow. That's amazing." She said with a little awe in her voice. Shawn smiled at the praise and perked up.

Henry regarded his son for a moment before stating his opinion. "It's adequate." He relented and watched with a note of regret as his son's and smile faded to disappointment. "Get him his cake." Henry added hoping that would bring the smile back but it didn't. He'd just let his son down and now he wasn't sure how to fix it.

"Guess I know what you're going to be when you grow up." The Waitress chimed in. Bust Shawn didn't even pause with his response.

"Oh, I'm never gonna grow up ma'am." That thought sent shivers down Henry's spine. Never had a truer word been spoken.


	2. Chapter Two: Pilot – Act I, Scenes 1-3

**Psych: The Real Deal**

 **Summary:** What if Shawn Spencer was actually psychic? What would be the repercussions? How would it affect the story? And what happens when criminal sights are set on him for his gift…?

 **Disclaimer:** This is a fan-fiction story of the TV show; Psych, and is in no way affiliated with the actual show. All characters and other materials related to the show that are used are not intended to infringe on any Copyrights. Elemental-Zer0 takes sole responsibility for any mistakes or offence that may be taken but truly not meant. However, any characters that are not related to any copyrights are copyrighted to Elemental-Zer0 as is any variations to the plot set out in the show.

 **Authors Note:** So I played the "What If…?" game and came up with this little ditty. Don't expect regular or quick updates though as I'm a sporadic writer and my real world life kidnaps me often. Sorry in advance.

Anyways, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it _politely_ otherwise I shall ignore your words. (It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any real chapters…)

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Pilot – Act I, Scenes 1 to 3**

 _2006 – Santa Barbara, USA_

 **Scene One**

Shawn Spencer just couldn't stop himself.

His pulse was racing, his heart pounding in his chest. Every breath was heavy. His skin tingled with anticipation. She was hot and so willing. He fumbled with the door while fumbling with her mouth, fingers slipping in their desperate plight to open the door while his tongue slipped and slid across hers in a battle for dominance. The handle clicked open, her hands opened his shirt. He manoeuvred her into his apartment and kicked the door shut behind him.

"Nice place." She commented, not even trying to look around. Her eyes stayed locked with his.

"Thank you." He breathed as he leaned backwards and felt the tv remote under his hands. He was surprised when the tv turned on to the news channel. He must've leant on the 'on' button. He was only mildly distracted by the news reporter on the screen, but his attention was instantly back on his newest conquest as she tugged him forward and pushed him round to the front of the sofa. In a show of dominance, she gently but sternly pushed him onto the sofa and stood seductively before him. His eyes were drawn to the tv for a micro second before she reached up and pulled her hair tie out. He watched fascinated and couldn't look away.

"I knew you were gonna be my best table." She said and crawled on top of him, sitting on his lap and attacking his mouth and throat alternatively. He groaned in anticipation, he so needed this.

"…about voicing her concerns regarding the department's long term policies." The tv took his attention for a moment, while he was able to see it over the girls shoulder. "Joe do the police have any leads at this time?" The reporter asked. The image changed to a rotund-ish balding guy who was nervously fiddling with something in his hands. He wouldn't look the reporter in the eye.

Shawn hated his gift at times and this proved to be one of those times. The man on the screen – the store manager – his nervous tell was so obvious that even without the spirits whispering in his ear, he could tell it was him who'd committed the robberies.

"We're at a loss, we really don't know what else to do." The guy began. "Been a tough few weeks. Basically run out of ideas. Hopefully the police will be able to crack this one for us." The images swapped back to the reporter.

"Closing the books on the visions break-ins could be just the olive branch needed to set things in the right direction." She finished. Shawn stopped paying attention to the tv and suddenly found his gaze drawn to the far corner of his lounge.

His buzz disappeared instantly. He had spectators. One specific spectator to be precise.

Harriet.

For a long time, Shawn had been able to see and speak to the dead. Not all of them. Just the ones that hung around or needed something from him. The one's with unfinished business. There were three types he'd discovered; the haunting kind where they couldn't rest until their business was complete (this included poltergeists); the very dead kind where they have moved on to the next life or to some afterlife party he didn't know about; and lastly the guardian types who stuck themselves with a particular person for reasons he couldn't care less about.

This one; Harriet, appeared to be the guardian type and had attached herself to Shawn, much to the psychic's chagrin at times. Especially times such as this. The problem was, Harriet was only twelve when she'd died and so, whenever she showed up it was in the image of a twelve year old girl and he just could not continue with any sexual acts in front of a spirit who looked so young despite her having been dead for thirty odd years. She wasn't the only spirit who'd assigned themselves as his watchers and guardians. He had a small collection of them, each spirit varied from the others; one was an old Jamaican lady, one was a biker, there was a girl his age, a man a few years older, an elderly man who smoked a pipe and constantly frowned, and the spirit of a cat, oddly enough.

He still didn't know why they stuck with him. Each one had helped him in some way or another and he felt a bond with them all but Harriet was the first and longest spirit ally he'd had. He trusted her completely.

And there she was; watching him from the corner of his living room as he half-heartedly kissed his new almost-conquest back.

'Damnit.' He thought to himself, knowing that tonight was just not going to happen. Shawn sighed to himself and pulled away from the busty girl. She pouted at him imploringly.

"What's wrong?" She asked, huskily, seductively. Begging with her sexual appeal to continue.

Shawn shook his head, "I'm sorry, I can't do this right now." He apologised just as breathlessly. She gave him a pleading look before another emotion trickled in; she was angry, insulted even. "Look, my mind isn't in it right now. It's me. It's not your fault…" He added as he stared at her appreciatively, letting his eyes linger a little to let her know that he still thought she was beautiful and attractive and that she had done nothing wrong. " _Definitely_ not your fault…" He breathed, temptation urging him to continue but those eyes watching from the corner stayed his libido. His gaze flicked to the spirit and his mind was made up. "I'm sorry." He said again to the girl in his lap as she pulled away from him. She stood in a deflated huff and hastily re-buttoned her blouse before giving him a frustrated look. He stood up also, apologies ready and armed on his tongue.

"You owe me a whole night of fun, Spencer." She said, adding a seductively stern look before grabbing her purse and leaving the apartment. He stood there for a second as he stared at the door.

"Looking forward to it." He said to himself, hardly believing he'd gotten a rain-check from her. He'd fully expected that to be the last time he saw her but she'd just promised there'd be more. That confused him a little. Weren't one night stands supposed to be just for one night? Before he could think any further into it, he turned to the spirit that had so rudely interrupted Little Shawn's fun time. "What do you want?" He asked brusquely, more than annoyed by the interruption.

Harriet came forward a little and implored him with a soulful look before glancing meaningfully at his tv set. Specifically; the story on the news he'd seen just now. He understood her answer; she wanted him to call in and bring justice to the man on the news.

"Why?" He asked. He didn't need to be told that it was the right thing to do; he'd have done it _because_ it was the right thing to do but he wanted to know why Harriet wanted him to do it. Why was she involving herself? Why was she intervening?

"~ _You need to do this._ ~" Was her cryptic answer. She was guiding him again. Something she'd been doing since he'd first met her. He was loathe to just do as she asked this time because of what she'd just interrupted but she'd never steered him wrong. Ever. She'd helped him out more times than he could remember and for all her help, he definitely owed her. He just couldn't deny her a request. Shawn rubbed a hand over his face as he reached for the phone. It was like having a kid sister around. A creepy kid sister who knew more than he did.

"You have impeccable timing, you know that?" He asked rhetorically as he dialled the number for the Santa Barbara Police department, a number he couldn't forget even if he didn't have his eidetic memory.

She stepped closer, a movement he looked up at and she gazed into his eyes again. She held his gaze with a knowing gleam and he couldn't look away. "~ _She was not taking contraceptives._ ~" Her voice echoed through the veil to his mind and it took him several seconds to realise what she was telling him. The girl he was about to have fun with had been tricking him into getting her pregnant. She'd told him she was taking contraceptive pills and that she was allergic to the latex in condoms. He'd trusted her because she'd produced the pills from her purse. She'd been lying to him. She was going to trap him into a relationship or a financial contract to provide for the baby. Her promise of another night suddenly made sense. He nearly dropped the phone but was abruptly brought back to the present when said phone suddenly started talking to him.

"Hello. Santa Barbara police department." He gave Harriet a grateful nod before focussing on the phone.

"Uh, it's the store manager. He did it." He said, still reeling from his near-brush with unexpected fatherhood.

"Pardon me?" The receptionist replied, clearly confused.

"Uh, the stereo robberies." Shawn realised he'd have to be more specific. "At the Visions chain store. He's on channel 8 news right now." He explained and he flicked the mute button on the tv remote to help him focus. "His hands. Nervous tick, dead giveaway. And he won't look at the reporter in the eyes." He elaborated, turning to look at Harriet only to find the room empty. She'd disappeared again.

He glanced around trying to locate her but a sudden sharp pain in his head stopped him completely. His vision clouded over and his heart beat sped up rapidly. His breathing came out in gasps.

 _He suddenly found himself in a white room with a mirror on one wall. He was stood by a red door, his actions had clearly been to leave the room but something had made him turn around. There was a very angry looking grey eyed man stalking toward him with a female moving behind him, slower, more sedately. His gaze slowly turned to the hall outside the door and he found himself looking at a strange woman who was just staring at him, her eyes were the brightest hazel green he'd ever seen held a wealth of knowledge behind them. Shawn felt a shiver go up his spine. The woman had an air about her, something felt off._

" _Just give us a reason Mr Spencer, that's all we need. How did you get this information?" The female detective asked, swinging his attention back to the room behind him._

Just as suddenly as it started, Shawn found himself back in his living room with the phone pressed tightly to his ear. The vision had taken all of three seconds but it'd felt a lot longer. It was several seconds later that he realised the woman on the phone had been asking him something else. "My name?" He asked a little breathlessly. "My name is Shawn Spencer." He replied, not thinking twice about his anonymity. His mind was someplace else entirely.

"And is there anything else today?" The receptionist asked. Shawn shook his head, as he turned back to the tv screen.

"No." He said distractedly as he stared at the tv screen. Something was about to happen today and it was going to change his life forever. He could just feel it and he knew it had something to do with the police station and his inevitable visit there. "That's gonna do it." He added then noticed another detail that his brain couldn't help but pick up and log. "Actually, the tags on the news van have expired." He added quickly, "But that's completely unrelated."

* * *

 **Scene Two**

Just as his vision predicted, Shawn Spencer found himself at the Santa Barbara Police Station waiting to speak to one Detective Lassiter a few hours later. The receptionist had been quite stern with her glares to sit and wait until she could speak to him. Her conversation to her sister about her concerns over a psychic reading she'd had was clearly more important than his signing the visitor's register.

He sat down next to a large handcuffed man who gave him a sneering glance before looking forward again. Shawn saw the tattoo of the word "Bloodthirsty" on his forehead with the shape of a tear or a drop of water just beneath his left eye.

But just then a door across the hall opened and an officer left the room. The door was on a soft closure mechanism and while it took its time closing, Shawn could see another officer inside the room softly counting to himself while dancing a few steps of the waltz. He smiled to himself, the guy was clearly practicing a dance step and by the looks of the guy, he wasn't doing it for fun; he wasn't a closet dancer otherwise he wouldn't have been practicing when the other guy was in there with him. He wasn't built for long term dancing either so he wasn't a dance teacher or performer. The waltz step he was practising was a basic step with no artistic flair or confidence so the man was clearly a beginner. The only reasonable explanation was a marriage or a new girlfriend he was trying to impress. Wedding sounded more plausible but no man would practice for another person's wedding so it had to be his own. Shawn smiled to himself, kudos to the man, he'd give him an A for effort.

His gaze fell back onto the man sat next to him. Shawn could see the guy was in trouble for an accident he hadn't planned to go so far. The frustration and slight self-pity was radiating from him in a psychic vibe only he could pick up. Shawn wasn't sure why he did it, but he decided to help the guy out a bit. First he had to strike up a conversation. He happened to glance down at the man's shirt sleeve which had been rolled up to his elbow. He noticed red glass shards in the folds of the sleeve. The guy had evidently taken his frustrations out on the tail lights of a car and who knows what else he'd destroyed too. He decided to start with that as an ice breaker.

"What'd you do, bust up your ex-wife's car?" He asked nonchalantly, forgetting for a second that by blurting out comments he'd picked up by using his hyper observatory skills, other would think him psychic. That's not to say he wasn't psychic, but he was trying to keep a low profile about it. His dad's endless exercises and the bullying and shunning from others who he'd revealed his secret to, was enough to teach him to keep that secret to his chest for now.

The guy gave him a surprised look but didn't question how he'd guessed near accurately. "Her new boyfriend's." The man corrected, still staring at him with a subtle level of shock. Shawn held his gaze politely.

"That'll teach her." He replied a little sarcastically but the guy didn't seem to notice. Instead he leaned in co-conspiratorially.

"They got no witnesses." He said confidently. Clearly he was not worried about any charges but Shawn knew they'd get him for the glass shards in the man's sleeve.

"Sweet." Shawn replied, enunciated the 't' on the end for emphasis. The guy gave a confident and appreciative nod before looking ahead, scanning the crowded hallway. "Might wanna brush the shards of tail light off your sleeve." He added, not being at all gentle about his comment. The guy was chained to the bench, he couldn't hurt him. Not that he would though considering the favour Shawn had just handed to him. "Just a tip." He added. The guy, looked down at his sleeve and noticed the glass shards then looked up at Shawn again, a grateful look upon his features.

"Gee." He said after a moment. "Thanks guy." He said while brushing the shards of glass out of his sleeves. But as he did so, the shards seemed to find their way into the guys left boot instead. Shawn thought about telling him but decided that he couldn't be bothered any more.

"Sure." He said, some people were their own worst enemies.

* * *

 **Scene Three**

Sometime later, the guy who was practicing dance steps – who introduced himself as Officer Buzz McNab – lead him down a hall way. "Right this way Mr Spencer." Shawn cringed a little, Mr Spencer was his father and to be associated with that man by any means felt awkward. A sense of déjà vu hit him as he passed a holding cell on the left and headed toward the door that McNab was leading him to. He ignored it though and decided to ask about why he thought he'd been invited down to the station.

"Soooo... when do I get my money?" He asked just as the door ahead of him opened up to reveal a tall blond female dressed in a grey skirt suit. His step almost faltered. It was the woman from his vision.

"Money?" She asked quizzically. That's when Shawn began to suspect something was wrong. His vision seemed to be coming true. He wasn't asked here for the reward money.

He decided to play along. After all the only thing his vison had revealed to him was the woman asking him how he knew the information. There wasn't anything to say he was in trouble.

"Yeah… the reward?" He prompted as he walked into the interrogation room hoping he was hiding his nerves as well as he wanted to. "You guys arrested the store manager, am I right?" He asked, his nerves were kicking his flamboyant personality trait up a notch. He stopped and internally swore when he saw the same male detective from his vision sat right in front of him on the corner of the table. This was the room from his vision. He was sure of it now.

"Why don't you let us ask the questions for a while?" The male detective stated. It wasn't a question. He assumed this guy was the Detective Lassiter he'd been told to ask for over the phone when the police station had called and asked him to come in.

Shawn reigned in his shock and forced himself to calm down. "Ok." He said more to himself as he moved to the side of the table with the single char tucked away. He pulled it out and sat down. He glanced up and happened to notice in the mirrored window, how Lassiter's fingers played with the female detective's hair as he passed behind her to lean against the wall the mirrored window sat in. He filed that information away for later, he felt he was going to need it. He quickly adopted his polite and innocent look. "So what might those questions be?" He asked, hoping he could just alleviate any concerns they might have with simple explanations rather than cause them any more suspicions.

However Lassiter was the type of guy that was bound to rile Shawn up a little. He could tell this immediately as soon as the guy spoke. "Oh I don't know, like; where were you on the night of the last robbery?" The confident and smug look on the detective's face was enough to decide Shawn's next actions for him. Shawn hated self-confident people especially when they were confident about something that they were wrong about.

Shawn took a moment to pretend to think about his answer and then in a deadly serious voice he'd perfected over the years, he said; "I was robbing the stereo shop." He let the pause hang for a bit before giving a chuckle and continued. "I wasn't…" He felt his joke had landed rather flat just as he'd expected but if he was going to get under Lassiter's skin like he wanted to then he had to play the obnoxious card. "I dunno, I guess I was doing the same thing you were doing; not solving crime." He said, verbally attacking the guy with a nonchalant demeanour. It didn't seem to work though.

"You're not helping your case here." Lassiter responded, smug grin still in place.

Shawn faltered for a second. "My case?" He asked incredulously. They were actually serious with this. "Wait, wait, wait… I'm actually a suspect?" He asked, his own surprise leaking through. How had they come to _this_ conclusion? He wondered.

"Oh you're our lead suspect." Lassiter confirmed. Shawn's world tilted a little and not because of his unique abilities. 'Lead suspect?!' What?!

"I gave you the guy!" He sputtered.

"He had a partner." Lassiter fired back, still on his high horse.

"What? I have to find _that_ guy? I'm confused, when do _you_ start chipping in?" He asked abrasively, his shock overwhelming him for a second. Lassiter's brow twitched.

"See, your information was good; so good that it could only have come from the inside." The detective said as he moved forward to sit on the chair he'd left in favour of leaning against the wall.

Shawn stared at him. "Inside of what?" He asked. "Look, I've called in dozens of tips ok? Just check it out." He added before the detective could answer his rhetorical question.

Lassiter leaned forward on to the table and picked a manila file. "I did. I checked out a whole lot of stuff." He confirmed. "Like, oh you're currently unemployed," Shawn internally shrugged, so what did that have to do with what he was being accused of? But he stayed quiet as the detective continued. "You've never held a job for more than six months." Again Shawn wasn't sure why this was important. "And, you have a criminal record." Ah ha. There was the crescendo point. The guy had been trying to psyche him out by rattling off facts that were private and then hit him with the point he was most interested in. His criminal record.

Shawn rolled his eyes and prayed for patience. "I was eighteen." He said by way of explanation. What did his one single crime have to do with a stereo shop robbery?

"Oh eighteen? Oh well that makes it ok, let me just scratch this out." Ok this Detective Lassiter was beginning to get on Shawn's nerves. Shawn decided to try and distract himself from wanting to strangle the guy by focussing on the female detective instead.

"I borrowed a car." He began to explain but Lassiter interrupted before he could continue.

"You _stole_ a car." He corrected but Shawn was determined not to let this guy get to him. He stayed focussed on the female detective.

"To impress a girl." He added, keeping his eyes on the detective that looked more likely to help him rather than attack him verbally.

"Was she?" She asked, her professionalism was on par and Shawn secretly applauded her efforts but he could see the twitch of her lip and the sparkle in her eye that said she was very entertained by this show. She apparently found Shawn interesting.

"Very." Shawn replied. Then sat back and added, "Until they slapped the cuffs on her, _then_ all of a sudden she's not the wild child she claimed to be." He said, putting on a front to appear like he was annoyed by the girl's misleading behaviour.

"Look, forgive us Mr Spencer but this seems farfetched." The female detective sighed and tried to implore Shawn's rational side, hoping to get through to him but the problem was, Shawn was innocent and didn't do anything.

"Would it help if I said she had a bit of a reputation and I was 0 for… high school?" He asked, the female detective smirked a little but remained quiet. It occurred to Shawn then that he actually might be in serious trouble here. He had to do something and he wasn't exactly happy to discover what his only option was here. He steeled himself and said a silent apology to all the karma controlling deities that existed before focussing his mind properly.

Briefly, and _only_ to save himself, Shawn opened his mind and linked it to the female detective's; to read it in order to find out what was actually going on. However he was a little shocked with what he found. They didn't believe his crime was as simple as a single car theft to impress a girl. They thought he was in the crime business and had been for a while and that this record they had on file was just the one and only time he'd been caught. They also thought that all these tips he'd given them were just a way of compensating for the numerous crimes they had imagined he committed. What picture had they painted of him here? He quickly closed the link and refocussed on the conversation. The whole mind trip had taken less than a second and neither detective were none-the-wiser. He had to set them right on this thing and fast.

"Ok fine, there were extenuating circumstances, the arresting officer was my father and he was trying to teach me a lesson." He explained, hoping that would clear his name of being a suspect for their grand theft auto theories.

"Did ya learn it?" Lassiter asked, his smug goading voice was enough to rile Shawn up again. He felt panic and frustration at the injustice of the justice enforcers sitting before him but he kept his temper and decided to blindside the detective with a very honest opinion.

"I learned I hated my father, so sure." He said with a bitterness to his voice. It was true, he still held a grudge against his father for a lot of things.

"Well pardon me if I'm just a little sceptical. Believable as it is that you solved all these crimes while, sorry what was it, watching the local channel eight news report?" Lassiter said, bringing the conversation back to their main objective. After another apology to the deities and a quick check inside Lassiter's mind, Shawn was happy to find out that the man had believed that Shawn was telling the truth in reference to the crime in his records. The story checked out and he had no evidence to suggest Shawn was affiliated with any other car thefts so it was pointless pursuing that road. Shawn breathed a small sigh of relief and closed the link again. He hated being inside other people's heads. It just felt wrong and Karma already had an APB out for him.

"I confess, that's not true." Shawn responded, his relief had relaxed his worries and now his behaviour had changed to a mischievous one. He revelled in the expectant look of Lassiter's face. The detective was clearly expecting Shawn to admit to being a partner in the robberies and Shawn was going to enjoy watching his facial expressions when he delivered his next line. "Sometimes I watch channel five." There it was. The smug smirk fell to irritation. "I prefer channel eight. The weather girl: adorable." Shawn added for extra measure. Lassiter leaned forward, no longer amused.

"So you're telling us you can read guilt off of tv interviews?" He asked, believing his question to be ridiculous and expecting Shawn to be embarrassed by his claim but Shawn just leaned forward too, matching the detective's confidence.

"Can't you?" He replied. It was a clear cut attack at the detective's skills and Shawn knew he was probably poking a very angry bear but right now he didn't care. The man was wrong on oh-so-many levels and he had the audacity to bite the hand the fed him tips to solve the case. This was utterly ridiculous. Shawn hadn't even heard of the stereo shop before the news report. He'd never stepped foot inside it and had never spoken to the store manager. He'd probably passed it a total of four times when traffic forced him to detour due to road works but that was the only affiliation he had with the place. If this detective had been doing his job properly, he'd know all this and more and would also know that he had nothing to hold him here with. His alibi was solid and that was also a main factoring point that this detective had seemed to have forgotten.

"Don't you try and trivialise police work." Lassiter spoke through his teeth. Finally Shawn had the upper hand in the conversational war. He wasn't about to sit there and be demeaned by this idiot of a Detective.

"I think you're doing a bang up job of that all by yourself." He replied, making it very clear his opinion of the detective's capabilities. "You can't keep me here guys. I know my rights." He added as he stood up and moved toward the door. He'd had enough of this debacle. See if he ever handed the police a tip again. The ungrateful idiots. He opened the door and found McNab filing something in one of the cabinets just outside the door.

"Good." Lassiter piped up causing Shawn to stop mid-stride. "Then you know you have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will appointed to you." Crap. The bastard was arresting him and he knew he could do it too. Another door opened, the one to the room behind the mirror and the lady from the reception meandered out into the hallway. She was clearly ready to do arrest.

"Wait, wait, wait, you're serious?" Shawn asked incredulously. There was no way they could charge him. He knew they could legally hold him but he really didn't want to be locked up in a holding cell until they finally figured out they couldn't keep him there. What happened to "innocent until proven guilty"?

"Spending a few hours in a holding cell might jog your memory." Lassiter said, regaining control of the conversation war and Shawn recognised the scene from his vision. Detective Lassiter stood up and moved to block his way back into the room. They were cornering him in to make a quick arrest. Shawn cast a quick glance into the holding cell just outside the interrogation room and baulked at the idea of spending a few hours in there with all those rather nasty looking people. His eyes picked each of them out: one girl was chewing a toothpick, one man had a rather nasty looking tattoo. And one woman was staring at him, watching him like a hawk. He recognised her from his vision too and just has he had in the vision, he felt a cold shiver go up his spine. He suddenly found himself not wanting to go anywhere near the woman.

"Just give us a reason Mr Spencer, that's all we need. How did you get this information?" The female detective asked, playing good cop to Detective Lassiter's bad cop routine. Shawn returned his attention back to his own situation. She'd just asked him the question he'd heard before and finally the context of it all played into sharp focus. This was becoming a mess very quickly. He'd told them the truth; he'd read the guilt from the tv interview and they didn't believe him. What were his options now?

"No. It is too late for that. Officer Allen; book him." Lassiter seemed to have made up his mind that Shawn was going into the holding cell. He was probably still hurting from the insults Shawn had subtly thrown at him.

"Book him?" Shawn asked incredulously. He felt Officer Allen's hands take his right wrist and prepared to apply a set of handcuffs. "Oh come on, cuffs? For the walk back to the lobby?" He asked. This was getting out of hand.

It was then that he realised what they were doing. They were trying to scare him; panic him into a confession. And it was in that moment that he noticed something in the corner of the interrogation room. It was a familiar face. One he was itching to yell at and plead with at the same time.

Harriet stared back at him with a knowing gleam in her eye.

"Or, you could give us a plausible explanation." The female detective reasoned. Adding to the drama but Shawn was calmer now that she was here and he knew what they were doing. It was a tactical harassment to psychologically shake him up and get him to give them something to trap him with. Well, the joke was on them. Shawn knew that telling them he was psychic was probably going to sound stupid; if they didn't believe him when he was telling the truth then why would they believe something so outrageous?

But Harriet was telling him to do it.

Shawn allowed his mind to open to her so he could hear her advice. It was an unconscious act on his part. His mind would always open for her.

"~ _Tell them. Show them_.~" She said. Shawn almost panicked. _Show_ them? He'd be locked up in a mental hospital. They'd cut open his brain. The government would swoop in and he'd never see daylight again… She wanted him to _show_ them? "~ _Not everything. Just a few things. You'll be fine_.~" She assured him. "~ _Trust me._ ~" She said with her innocent but knowing smile. Shawn took a breath, faltering with his words for a second.

"I…" But she had never steered him wrong. He trusted her.

He swung his glance round to the Officer who had manned the reception and was now in the process of hand cuffing his right hand, then found her earrings and her pendant. She was spiritually inclined. Over her shoulder, he saw an elderly woman, looking upset. The word "~ _Charlatans._ ~" reached him across the veil.

His next glance was to the young Officer McNab who had been taking dancing lessons.

His eidetic memory brought back the image of Lassiter playing with the female detective's hair.

And lastly he remembered the guy from the bench in the lobby. The incriminating glass pieces of tail light that were in his left boot. He winced a small apology to the guy for what he was about to do but needs must. Besides, the guy could probably benefit from the mandatory anger management sessions he'd be sentenced with. He was practically doing the guy a favour. Back-handed as it was.

"Ok," He said suddenly, wrenching his hands away from the Officer about to hand cuff him. "Ok, fine." He added and inwardly cringed as Lassiter's face fell back into the smug grin. "You win." He said, the words tasted sour in his mouth as he said them. "I got the information because…" This was harder than he'd imagined it to be and he practically had to force the words out. "I'm psychic." There he'd said it.

There were varying degrees of responses; Officer Allen dropped the handcuffs in shock, the female detective quirked an eyebrow, he felt McNab genuinely smile in confusion and Lassiter predictably rolled his eyes in disappointment.

"Get him out of here." The angry man growled but Shawn was quick to play the card.

He turned abruptly to face Officer Allen and addressed her. "Your grandma would be so proud." He said, gaining the female officer's full attention.

"You spoke to her?" She asked, fully inclined to believe him. Shawn actually felt a little relieved. He'd not really had someone respect him and so readily believe him before. They'd all been so sceptical and then turned afraid or angry.

"I did." He confirmed, though talking wasn't quite what happened. He had gotten impressions from her. "She's safe, comfortable." He added, easing the woman's mind while also gaining an ally. "She wants you to stop spending all your money on those charlatans." He added, giving her the message the dead woman had asked him to convey. He glanced over her shoulder and found the woman smiling back at him gratefully before disappearing.

"The palm readers." Officer Allen asked, completely enraptured by Shawn's ability. He moved to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"The palm readers." He confirmed but as he went to touch her shoulder he became aware of an odd feeling in his hands. He noticed a magnetised pull just as the female detective started to speak again.

"Ok, just to be clear…" She said as he slowly turned back to them. His hands were being guided back to the pair of detectives. Harriet was guiding his next act; confront the detectives about their relationship. "Um, you're claiming to be a psychic Mr Spencer." She stated. She was, in her own way, trying to give him the opportunity to come clean with a believable reason. But the burning in his hands forced a small and apprehensive; "Ahhhh…" from him. The sensation was like nothing he'd ever felt before. This was a new thing even for him. His hands stopped; one in front of Lassiter and one in front of the female detective whose name he still did not know. His mind cleared a little and he mentally reminded himself to ask Harriet later about this.

"How else would I know that you two are sleeping together?" He asked. The look on their faces was priceless but before Shawn could gloat or linger on that moment, Harriet was counting beats inside his head and his hands were moving, conducting. Truth be told this was starting to scare him a little. His control of his own body was being hijacked.

"One, two three. One, two three. One, two…" He was mumbling the beats but loud enough so that the four police workers could hear him. He turned to face McNab and locked eyes with the tall man. "When's the wedding?" He asked. It seemed to be a fairly frequent question he was asked because for a moment the young officer didn't seem so surprised, just overwhelming happy about the fact he was getting married.

"May third." He answered, then he realised that there was no way the man here could have known he was getting married. "Wait. How'd you know?" He asked, his amazement showing on his face. Shawn felt the words in his mind, Harriet was still guiding him.

"~ _Dance Lessons. Wedding Reception._ ~" She said, her young voice echoing. A stark reminder that she was not part of the living world.

"I'm getting…" Shawn started, putting his hands to his head, his temples were starting to throb. He could feel a migraine beginning to start. "Dance lessons. For a wedding reception." He threw out, hoping to end this little charade soon. "And you, are getting good." He added, just to make the guy feel better.

"Wow. That's amazing." McNab said slowly, clearly gobsmacked.

"Oh come on. Who's buying this?" Lassiter's voice was loud behind him and it took all of Shawn's effort not to outwardly wince when he spoke. Both Officer Allen and McNab raised their hands though and as Shawn looked down the hall, he could see several hands raised through the bars of the holding cell too. Huh, he hadn't realised he'd been performing to a larger audience. His eyes locked with that creepy woman's again for a second, a chill tingled inside him before he wrenched his eyes away again. He really didn't like the feeling that woman gave him.

"~ _Focus Shawn._ ~" Harriet's voice chided him, guiding him again. "~ _Detention room two. Tail light. Left shoe._ ~" She said, reminding him of his last playing card.

"I got it!" Shawn said suddenly, half to Harriet and half to himself to distract himself from the woman in the holding cell. "Go to detention room number two, shake down your vandal and you'll find all the evidence you need…" He stopped as he felt his left foot tingle. It was a very uncomfortable feeling and was so sudden that he had to stop and look at his foot. It shook itself and he realised that Harriet was doing this as retribution for his outburst just now. He made a mental reminder to yell at her later rather than talk as he tried to continue his last act. "All the evidence is in his left shoe." He finished. Fighting back a wave of nausea as his headache worsened.

Through the too-bright light and his throbbing temples, Shawn saw the female detective roll her eyes, completely disbelieving the act but he could tell she was unsure how he couldn't have known all he'd spouted out.

Lassiter moved then, "We'll be back here in three minutes" He ground out was he pushed past Officer Allen before growling at her, "With my own cuffs." He stormed up the hall and disappeared.

Harriet finally let him go. He felt her control fizzle away and he slumped back against the door. His thoughts were clearing a bit but his head still pounded. He looked over to the corner just over the female detective's shoulder to find Harriet predictably gone. He breathed out a breathless, "Whoa…" before looking up at the female detective's face. He found the same disbelief and annoyance he usually faced and it made him feel isolated and hated all over again. He hated being different. He just wanted a normal life but they wouldn't believe him when he told the truth. He huffed a frustrated sigh and decided then and there that he was done with helping the police.

Ungrateful bastards.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** So? Should I continue down this avenue? I have a few original ideas to throw in but this will mostly be following the show. Let me know if you want more._


	3. Chapter Three: Pilot – Act I, Scenes 4-7

**Psych: The Real Deal**

 **Summary:** What if Shawn Spencer was actually psychic? What would be the repercussions? How would it affect the story? And what happens when criminal sights are set on him for his gift…?

 **Disclaimer:** This is a fan-fiction story of the TV show; Psych, and is in no way affiliated with the actual show. All characters and other materials related to the show that are used are not intended to infringe on any Copyrights. Elemental-Zer0 takes sole responsibility for any mistakes or offence that may be taken but truly not meant. However, any characters that are not related to any copyrights are copyrighted to Elemental-Zer0 as is any variations to the plot set out in the show.

 **Authors Note:** Sorry for the delay - I got sidetracked. Again, I feel the need to remind you not toexpect regular or quick updates, because I'm a sporadic writer and my real world life kidnaps me often. Sorry again.

Anyways, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it _politely_ otherwise I shall ignore your words. (It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any real chapters…)

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Pilot – Act I, Scenes 4 to 7**

 **Scene 4**

It took Lassiter only two minutes to find out Shawn had been right and several minutes after that, Shawn found himself at the reception desk speaking to Officer Allen about the reward money and a certain other topic, despite his earlier internal decry about never helping the police again.

"I'm getting… I'm getting… the letter L." He said with a flourish. He wasn't actually using his abilities at this point, because Officer Allen's grandmother hadn't returned from when she disappeared in the hallway that lead to the interrogation room. He wasn't quite sure if she had passed over or was content that her grandchild was safe from charlatans because he'd passed her message along. She had felt like the guardian type but perhaps he'd been wrong and she had just completed her unfinished business.

Officer Allen lit up with a huge smile, "Lulu her dog!" She exclaimed. Despite the negative emotions he'd felt in the interrogation room - and again, ignoring his vow to not help the police - Shawn found himself actually enjoying the attention Officer Allen was giving him for his skills. This woman was thoroughly enchanted by his gift and that was something he'd never experienced before. She wasn't afraid of him or upset with him knowing things he shouldn't possibly know or angry for bringing up unwanted memories. He was actually having a good time. That was until he felt a cold presence in the room. "Is there anything else she said?" Officer Allen's voice brought him back to their conversation and he tried to think and even tried to actually channel something for the eager woman but that dark presence was totally jamming his vibes.

"There's suddenly a very, very negative presence here." He said, quite sure he could pinpoint who it was too. "It's blocking me." He admitted to the woman with an apologetic smile. He watched as Officer Allen put two and two together and then frowned over at Detective Lassiter who was talking to his partner.

"Question." Shawn stated, bringing the Officer's attention back to himself. "Do I pay taxes on reward money?" He asked, a genuine question even though he'd collected on a few others before and should really remember the answer. He couldn't help it if small details slipped his mind, it was an unfortunate price to pay for the cosmic powers he was born with.

"I'll find out and call you on the number you gave us." Officer Allen replied with a grin, "Please, feel free to call, any time." She added with an enthusiastic wave and Shawn wondered if the data protection act would save him from any home calls asking for more messages from a dead grandmother.

"You know I will." Shawn lied, completely intent on never stepping foot inside the police station again thanks to the episode in the interrogation room. He turned on his heel and bid a silent final farewell to the Santa Barbara Police Department for what he hoped would be the very last time.

* * *

 **Scene 5**

"It was a lucky guess." Lassiter said under his breath as he took a paper cup and filled it with water from the cooler they'd stood by.

His female partner lifted an eyebrow. "Lucky guess?" She asked. She wasn't buying the psychic thing completely but a 'lucky guess' was quite a stretch for the specific details this Shawn Spencer character had seemingly conjured from the 'depths of the veil' or whatever. She suspected the guy had some kind of inside knowledge, like he had to have had for the details on the robberies, but she just couldn't see how. The only connection Spencer had with the vandal was sharing a bench in their own waiting room and, as far as they could investigate, Spencer had never stepped foot near the Vision chain store either.

"He planted it. I don't know." Lassiter replied, clearly not buying the psychic thing either but also frustrated that he couldn't link the two together either.

"His alibi checks." It was true, she thought, this guy for all intents and purposes checks out clean as a whistle, save for a few recent parking tickets and one speeding ticket in Ohio six years ago. So just how did he come by his information? She didn't know, but she was going to speak to the Chief about this guy. Maybe she'd have some idea on how to keep him around long enough for them to find out.

* * *

 **Scene 6**

Shawn skipped down the steps with a small grin plastered to his face. It was a beautiful day if not for the slight hiccup in the interrogation room. The sun was shining, the winds were soft and warm, he had his reward money and the beach and babes beckoned him with shiver of anticipation.

"Not so fast, Mr Spencer." And it was in that moment that Shawn felt that the deities had decided his fate was not to enjoy himself today. Before he could turn though, he found Harriet standing just in front of him. Silent as the grave. He inwardly cursed her for her urgent insistence that he called in the tip that was quickly becoming a pain in the ass.

"~ _Karen Vick_.~" She said as though it were important. Shawn inwardly frowned, he knew that name. The curse of an eidetic memory, he could never forget anything although some memories took a little more digging than others and in this case he'd have to dig a little until he could find the memory he was looking for. "~ _Chief of Police. Interim._ " Harriet added and gave him a small apologetic smile. Unfortunately, Shawn was a softy. No matter how mad he might have been at her, he still trusted her. This was her apology for scaring him earlier.

He turned to find the lady who had addressed him and found a very pregnant woman dressed in office wear and staring at him from the top of the steps he'd just descended. His memory recall was then very efficient and he remembered why he knew that name. He recognised her as one of his father's partners on the force from years ago. She'd had a different surname back then until she'd married. He only knew this because she had sent his father a wedding invitation which Shawn remembered seeing stuck to the fridge for a few weeks before he'd moved out. No wonder his memory took a moment to return. The surname wasn't one he'd normally associate with the woman. He was still stuck on 'Detective Karen Hudson'.

"Karen Vick, interim Chief of Police." She introduced herself.

"I know." He replied as he moved closer to his conversational host, not wanting to be rude by forcing a pregnant woman to move more than she was comfortable doing. He was also anticipating something monumental now that Harriet had shown up. She usually did that; show up before something big occurred, that is. He'd likened it to a warning system as much as a guiding one now.

"Heard about what you did in there." Vick started off. Shawn braced himself for another interrogation and wondered what she could want when it was abundantly clear he had nothing to do with their ongoing case.

"Oh you're welcome." He replied candidly, hoping to throw her off with his blasé attitude, fake as it was, in hopes to retreat safely and never have to hear of the damned place again. But luck was not hid friend today.

"No. It wasn't the phrase I was going to use." Vick started, going for abrupt honesty. Something Shawn wasn't quite sure how to battle. "I was going to say: Improbable. Possible, yet unlikely." She was questioning his abilities. Just like everyone else who had found out. He was getting tired of this game.

"Look it's hard to explain." He replied, getting a little frustrated with everyone's lack of belief. "I'm gifted. I was born that way." He stated as simply as possible and prepared to walk away from the conversation there and then but her next comment rooted him to the spot before he could move.

"I knew your father." She said. Shawn wondered if she knew what effect bringing his father up would have on him but dismissed it just as quick as the thought had come. He and his father had parted on harsh terms but no one could have known that really because both men were too stubborn to talk about it to each other let alone anyone outside the family. "He was a good cop. You're nothing like him." Vick continued, frowning at him from her perch on the middle step.

"I know. And I take that as a compliment, Ma'am." He replied tersely but she quickly cut him off.

"Don't ever call me Ma'am." Her quick interruption had him wondering for a moment as to what she had against the word but dismissed it in favour of retreating quickly.

"Am I still free to go?" He asked, wondering why the Chief of Police, interim or not, would bother with talking to him if it wasn't about the case he'd just helped them with.

"Not exactly." Vick replied, stepping further down the steps to stand level with him on the sidewalk. "You familiar with the Callum Family?" She asked. Shawn gave her a look that clearly questioned why she would ask him that before responding, albeit a little hesitantly.

"Callum? Yeah, they own half the hill." He said, wondering where this was going. For being a psychic, there were limits to his knowledge, especially when his own ethical morals stood between him and reading her mind.

"Well there's been a kidnapping." Vick elaborated and Shawn decided enough was enough. He'd been tricked into entering the police station, interrogated about a past crime and a current one and also had to look like a looney in front of the head detective in order to clear his name. It was understandable why he thought he was being questioned about a kidnapping he knew nothing about, especially since it was the chief of Police asking him about it.

"Oh come on." He bemoaned and threw his hands out. "I had nothing to do with that." He stated loudly and gave her an exasperated look that clearly told her that he was losing his patience with her department and was likely never to return again. Vick knew she was losing her target and decided to up her game.

"Would you like to?" She asked and watched with fascination as he stopped and just looked at her incredulously. "The feds are itching to get in on this case and I need to make some progress. What I need is a miracle." She explained and then looked him up and down in an assessing visual sweep. "Or a facsimile of one." She added.

Shawn wasn't quite sure he'd heard her right but when she began to explain, the full realisation of what she was asking him to do finally hit him. Oh no. Nope. No! He was _not_ going to consult on a case. He'd vowed he was done helping the police. He decided to try and dissuade her from hiring him with a large fee.

"Oh. I see. I see. Well I make twelve hundred a day." He started but Vick cut him off with a stern response.

"It's a try-out." She said, apparently trying to compromise but with a firm hand. He looked her in the eye and then found Harriet's gaze behind Vick on the steps just over her shoulder. Neither were going to let him walk away from this.

"~ _You need to do this._ ~" Harriet said, echoing her first words to him that day. Shawn wilted a little, it was such a cryptic statement. Harriet knew more than she was letting on but the Spirits, all of them, worked in mysterious ways and he could never get a straight answer from any of them. He doubted he was going to get one now.

"That's what I meant to say," Shawn finally relented, consciously bracing himself for what he could only imagine, would be the worst few days of his life to come. "It's a pro-bono, something for you." He added, his charm unable to stay quiet in the face of stress and worry.

"Let me be very clear, Mr Spencer." Vick replied, misinterpreting his nervousness to be something related to his claims of being innocent. "Your case is still open. And it stays that way until I see a reasonable demonstration of this ability you claimed to have utilised to solve all these numerous crimes." Shawn was a little taken aback by her abrupt honesty about her opinion and also a little annoyed too. Was this some sort of test? He'd had enough of that from his own father. "And if this psychic thing is a scam, we will prosecute." Vick added and Shawn inwardly seethed. Why did no one believe him? He was about to tell her what she could do with her opinion but he froze as soon as he made eye contact with Harriet again.

"~ _Please. Trust me._ ~" She pleaded. Shawn stared. Harriet never pleaded. Had never asked for anything. She'd just given him advice when he needed it or guided him through something difficult and that was that. She'd never asked him for anything until now. He hated the idea, _loathed_ the thought of working with the police… but he owed Harriet so much. His moral compass was going to be the death of him.

"You know hindering a police investigation is a criminal offence." Vick added, but Shawn noticed that her tone had been softer and he watched a little perplexed as she turned on her heel and walked back toward the doors of the building.

Shawn turned back to Harriet only to find her missing again. He seriously needed a chat with the Spirit.

* * *

 **Scene 7**

Central Coast Pharmaceuticals had come to be one of Shawn's midlife haunts. It could have something to do with the cute blonde receptionist called Sally on the front desk with the cutest dimples and the fluttering eyes that promised good times if he could seduce her. It could also have something to do with the free snack machine on the second floor communal area and had never failed to run out of his favourite chocolate – which might be because he was probably part of the only 3% of the building's population to actually like Snickers. The fact that he wasn't even employed by the company that owned the building was neither here nor there.

Or it might all have something to do with the fact that his best friend and brother from another mother worked as a very reputable Sales Representative for the company and was currently working from his office rather than working on his route where he should be. However Shawn's "Brother Radar" had definitely placed his friend firmly in his office.

So after pilfering a visitors badge and a personal telephone number from the blonde on the front desk, and after rescuing his beloved Snicker's bar from the free snack machine on the second floor, Shawn finally found himself outside Burton Guster's office door. Shawn winced at the full name displayed on the glass window and was glad he'd come up with the nickname "Gus" for his unfortunately named friend. He opened it without knocking because no doubt Sally from the front desk had phone ahead of him to let his African American brother-friend know of his arrival.

"I have a job for you." Were his first words and he knew Gus was going to fight him until he could pique his interest. Truth be told, Shawn was very reluctant to go into this "consulting" thing with the Police alone and without his best friend to back him up. He was retreating and he wanted some form of support in a situation where he just knew he was going to be ridiculed and have his talents belittled by Detectives who would think he was just trying to belittle their job in the first place.

His confidence needed a boost and a supportive hand from behind and that support was only available in the form of his best friend.

"I already have a job." Gus replied, clearly expecting his arrival because he was still sat in a relaxed position in his seat and had made no attempts to hide the mess on his desk or the fact that he was playing games on his computer.

"They're paying you to play video games?" Shawn asked with his knowing grin, the one Gus mostly hated because once again he hadn't managed to pull the wool over Shawn's eyes. It was an ongoing challenge but Gus was determined to win one day.

"How do you do that?" He asked narrowing his eyes in frustration. And Shawn was actually surprised he'd asked the question considering that Gus was one of only three people who knew and believed he was psychic. The other two being his parents. He'd told no one else since school because no one else had ever believed him. Until Officer Allen and McNab.

"Come on. Left hand space bar. Right hand arrow keys. Gus, you should ask me a challenging question every once in a while just for kicks." He said, knowing full well that Gus was still hell bent on catching him out. He had yet to succeed.

"I can't go anywhere." Gus replied, "I'm behind on my route. I got to wait for the new samples of ceromoxicyllan to come in." So that's why. Made sense now.

"Oh, man. I'm sorry. I didn't realize the new butt cream was coming in." Shawn replied with a mischievous grin, he knew Gus would have spotted the innuendo but his friend refrained from taking the bait. Shawn frowned; "Look Gus, I uh… I kinda need you to have my back on this one." He said with all the honesty he could muster. Gus didn't need to be psychic to know Shawn was being serious but that didn't mean he'd humour him. If he asked for a character reference from him one more time...

"What could you possibly need my help with Shawn? You've had 57 jobs altogether and you claim to have just 'mastered' them and moved on." Gus replied, he'd been conned before and wasn't taking the risk.

"Come with me." Shawn asked, but Gus wasn't even looking at him anymore.

"Uh, no. I'm never doing anything blindly with you again. I learned that at the Mexican border." He argued, then added, "Twice." Because it was true.

"Okay, this is hard to explain, but I'm going to give it a shot." Shawn started nervously, and then continued rapidly through his explanation. "The cops know I'm a psychic, and now we are investigating a kidnapping." Gus finally looked up to judge his friend's truthfulness and found to his disconcerting disbelief that Shawn was telling the truth.

"You're serious?" He asked, but he already knew the answer. Shawn was beyond serious, and now that he looked closer, Gus could tell that his best friend was actually on the verge of freaking out. Gus had known Shawn's secret for a long time, and with that knowledge came the experience of watching his friend be put down time and again for his gift. Gus hated Shawn's gift just as much as Shawn did but for different reasons. Gus hated watching the light in his friends eyes die a little because someone didn't believe him or pushed him away. Gus hated when Shawn's father forced him to use his gift and pushed him too far. And perhaps the scariest reason of why Gus hated his friend's gift, was when the headaches, the vertigo, the exhaustion and the delirium set in. Shawn had once been comatose for almost a month because he'd pushed himself too far at his father's urging. But he couldn't really blame Mr Spencer for it that time. It had been Gus they were trying to find, lost and alone in the forest. It was a memory he'd really rather forget.

"Yes, I am serious!" Shawn burst out, waking Gus from his musings. "Six days ago, Camden McCallum jr.; sole male heir to McCallum textiles, was seen being forced into his range rover at the municipal dog park. No one's seen him or the dog since." Shawn explained as he paced across the floor. Gus studied him and could see the fear and discomfort brewing just under the surface. He decided to try and lighten the mood while he figured out what it was he could do to help his friend.

"They took the dog?" He asked, adding a fair amount of incredulity into his voice. It seemed to work a little for Shawn failed to hide a small smirk at the comment.

"You see what I mean? I need you." And Gus knew exactly what Shawn needed him for. Shawn needed someone to tell him he wasn't insane, that he was good with his gift and that the idiots who didn't believe in him were just jealous of him and his talent. And not the reason his friend was about to spew because he couldn't bring himself to say he needed the comfort of a supportive friend. Another trait his father had unconsciously instilled in his son. "I need you to, to write stuff down. Cause you know how I zone out when other people talk." Shawn finished lamely, knowing that Gus would pick up the real reasons why he was asking for his brother-friend to help him. And if Gus was honest, Shawn did zone out when conversing with the spirits or using his gifts for specific tasks. But Gus knew. He just knew.

"Just for today?" He relented, knowing that if Shawn impressed the police enough this time, this was definitely _not_ going to be the one and only time he'd be helping his friend with police cases. Shawn wasn't going to let an innocent person stay kidnapped if he could help and if that meant using his gift, he would. And he knew that the police were going to want to keep using him considering their bad publicity lately and that also meant that they'd appeal to Shawn's good heart and Shawn wouldn't be able to say no. Which meant Gus would be stood right there next to his friend as he goes through case after case, avoiding ridicule in the hopes of saving a life.

"Just today." Shawn confirmed, naively hoping that this was going to be the one and only time if only to just clear his own name and be done with the police completely. Gus could see that Shawn was being backed into a trap and he also knew there was nothing he could do about it. "Oh, and you know what," Shawn continued, distracting both himself and Gus from distracting thoughts. "You should bring your sample case because some of those forensics guys…" He began and Gus knew how to play the game. He interrupted Shawn very quickly, letting his friend know that he knew the stakes and the rules.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. There's going to be forensics guys there?" He asked exuberantly. He'd form a plan while Shawn did his thing. He make it so that Shawn at least had the opportunity to decline should they try to corner him again.

Gus had his best friend's back.

* * *

 **A/N:** So someone said I should mix up the dialogue a little. I kind of had to in this one but going forward do you think I should shake things a little?


	4. Chapter Four: Pilot - Act I, Scenes 7-x

**Psych: The Real Deal**

 **Summary:** What if Shawn Spencer was actually psychic? What would be the repercussions? How would it affect the story? And what happens when criminal sights are set on him for his gift…?

 **Disclaimer:** This is a fan-fiction story of the TV show; Psych, and is in no way affiliated with the actual show. All characters and other materials related to the show that are used are not intended to infringe on any Copyrights. Elemental-Zer0 takes sole responsibility for any mistakes or offence that may be taken but truly not meant. However, any characters that are not related to any copyrights are copyrighted to Elemental-Zer0 as is any variations to the plot set out in the show.

 **Authors Note:** Sorry it's been a while. I've had a lot going on so please bear with me. I will be sporadic in my uploading. I may post one or three chapters fairly regularly and then I might drop off the radar of life for a longer period but I do intend to finish all my posted stories. I might be old and grey by that time but it will be done!

Anyways, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it _politely_ otherwise I shall ignore your words. (It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any real chapters…)

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Pilot – Act I, Scenes 7 to x**

 **Scene 7**

It was a short car journey to the McCullum estate and throughout that time, Gus found himself asking questions about the case to take Shawn's mind off the entrapment he was slowly becoming enmeshed in. Gus knew all about how the Santa Barbara Police Department was going through a very tough time with the media, this meant that the general consensus among the populace of Santa Barbara was a lack of faith and trust in the force. The SBPD needed a miracle and Shawn was the perfect target. They wouldn't care about his insecurities or shoving him in the limelight if it meant it'd save their reputation and actually save a few lives while they were at it. And, if anything went wrong then Shawn was the perfect scapegoat to whom they could pin the blame on, thus saving their own asses again. It was perfect for the SBPD.

Not so perfect for Shawn though and Gus knew where _his_ loyalties lied.

"So, talk me through it, what are your thoughts on this whole thing?" He asked, it was a vague and general question which allowed Shawn to talk about everything he knew about the case and his psychic hits. Giving him room to ramble on until he was calm enough to face the crime-scene.

"Ok, so McCallum has been at the centre of a few incidents over the last few years. He ran his father's cigarette boat into the Morro-Bay Aquarium. That was right after he got caught with that hockey player's wife…" Shawn started and Gus remembered seeing that in the news and for about five years the guy had popped up in every Santa Barabaran news-paper with one incident or another. He said as much and Shawn continued.

"Well, since that day, nothing. Not a single news story. Not so much as a dented motorcycle." Gus frowned. That was odd. No one just goes cold turkey after all that drama unless something drastic happened. Gus could suddenly see where Shawn was going with this. Shawn thought this moment had something to do with the guy's eventual disappearance. He asked the question anyway, knowing his friend needed to keep talking for now.

"Okay. What do you think?" He asked. He'd just pulled up to the estate now anyway but he knew Shawn well enough to know that he'd need all the support he could get if he was to survive this ordeal.

"I think Camden McCallum is too good at what he does to stop." Shawn rambled. The young psychic eyed the house with his thinking cap on rather than his defensive cap. It was an art that Gus had almost perfected over the years; to be able to divert and guide Shawn's attention and mood in order to suit the situation. It didn't always work, especially when the spirits intervened – there was no saving Shawn's behavioural decorum then – but overall, Gus prided himself on being able to calm his friend down to the point where he could be useful and not make an embarrassment out of himself.

"Not completely anyway." Shawn continued as Gus parked the blueberry next to a random Mercedes, feeling a little underdressed and understated in the extravagant setting. "Beautiful women, fast cars. Doesn't add up. Something happened." Shawn finished distractedly as he let himself out of his friend's car and shut the door absently. His gaze was tracking something that Gus could not see and Gus suspected no one else could see whatever it was either. The Salesman shivered, he had a feeling someone from the other side had just revealed themselves to Shawn; he'd seen that look on his friend's face many a time before and it was always supernatural related.

"Shawn?" Gus asked hesitantly, but Shawn did not respond. Gus knew then that something supernatural had taken his friend's complete attention. Which meant that Shawn was vulnerable in this state and Gus had to keep him safe – which wasn't always an easy task.

Gus followed Shawn carefully as the psychic ambled distractedly toward the building, his steps faltering only a little as he consulted with the afterlife. It was a golden rule that Gus had learned first-hand about what not to do when Shawn was speaking with the dead or lost in some form of trancelike state.

Don't touch the psychic.

Unexplainable and inexplicable things happen when you come into any form of contact with the psychic while he is deliberating with the beyond. And sometimes, bad things occur. Very bad things that Gus would rather he forget forever. Specifically, it was the memory of one of his first interactions he'd had with Shawn in this type of transient otherworldliness when they were just kids that had taught him this lesson, and it was that memory that constantly and sharply reminded him never to lay a hand on Shawn in any way while he was under the veil.

So, Gus followed, carefully. Making sure he was not at risk of accidentally bumping into the young man, but also wary of anyone else who might pose the same threat. So far, they were alone in the driveway but that could change at any corner. A gardener, or butler or whatever could innocently come out at them any minute and absently pat or brush past his friend with devastating consequences for both parties.

But as they shuffled in silence, Gus became aware of the slight changes in Shawn's behaviour that told him his friend was coming back to him. A twitch of his hand, a slow breath and eyes slowly focussing again. Eventually, Shawn abruptly blinked as he found his way back to the realm of the living and turned his owl-like stare at his friend. Gus gave no judgement. Instead he just asked the one question he always asked after witnessing one of Shawn's vulnerable moments.

"Are you ok?" He asked diligently. It had always been a concern of his that his friend might not return quite the same as he left in these instances and he was always worried that Shawn would be lost to him forever if that ever happened. But so far, that had only happened once and they had somehow, by some miracle, managed to reverse the effect. Though Gus still wasn't sure how that had all happened.

"Just pineapple-y." Shawn replied. And, had he replied with anything else, Gus would have been on high alert and would already be calling Shawn's father for help, but as it was Gus was happy that Shawn was in fact ok. It was their secret passcode they'd developed years ago and to this day he'd never said anything different. The story behind the passcode however, would have to wait for another day. Gus relaxed and then asked his next trained question.

"What was that about?" It was like a mantra, they had a certain set of questions after moments like this and it was usually the same thing. Shawn spaces out. Gus guards. Shawn comes back. Passcode checks out. Gus asks Shawn what happened. Shawn replies with:

"Just Harriet."

'Just Harriet.' Or Hattie, or Hunter, or Ysabel, or Frank, or George or even Felix. All of those answers were acceptable. They were the usual suspects, though Harriet was the root of most of Shawn's "off" moments. Granted it wasn't all the time that she would take all of Shawn's senses like she had just done, usually she'd appear and just talk with him. Shawn would look like a loony while he conversed with what appeared to be thin air and then she'd leave once her business was done, or hang out if she was bored. But sometimes when it was important or urgent, she would appear and sort of half pull Shawn into a trance like she had done just now in order to get her message across.

Gus was well aware of Harriet and what she was. She was like an invisible friend, except Shawn hadn't grown out of "the phase" as most of the teachers had called it. It was around this time that Shawn had discovered a pattern and had labelled the three types of afterlife spirits. The ones who pass on instantly, the ones with unfinished business, and the ones who hang around to guide and protect those who they feel need it most.

Harriet was a guardian spirit. She'd been guiding and guarding Shawn since before he even knew what a spirit was and Gus had never known Shawn to have not had Harriet invisibly near him or part of their antics. Gus knew Harriet well. He'd even had arguments with her through Shawn and when she got emotionally involved, she emulated a poltergeist but with much less scare factor. She'd once sent a stack of papers flying across the room in a tantrum, and had also managed to levitate Gus's shoes above his head in a mischievous prank when he couldn't find them. Her bouts of supernatural interventions though don't last for very long. She's not a very powerful spirit and thus can only invoke herself to apply to the living realm for short bursts. Pointless as it is to say, Gus found his shoes right after they hit him on his head and Harriet vanished to wherever it is that uncrossed spirits go to recuperate.

"Did she have anything to say?" Gus asked as he followed Shawn's renewed vigorous steps toward the building.

"Just that she was sorry about this morning and that we'll find our first clue… this way." Shawn replied, vaguely. Gus had half a mind to ask about what Harriet had to be sorry about that morning but his curiosity changed his train of thought. Instead, he followed Shawn and tried to direct the conversation to something else in order to lighten the serious mood.

"How should we introduce ourselves?" He asked, picturing himself as though he were in a movie and holding up a badge. "Don't say 'psychic' or they'll shut you off." He added gently, remembering all the other times Shawn had faced emotional derailment because of that word and forgetting for a second that Shawn had been invited to the crime-scene as a psychic consultant. "Say something vague. Like 'alternative tactics division' or something." He added, still lost in his own fantasy.

Shawn had seen where his friend had taken the thought and knew he was just trying to look out for him so didn't really take offence. Instead he decided to play along. "How about the bureau of magic and spell casting?" He asked with a sly grin on his face. Gus snapped out of his fantasy and turned to look at Shawn with an incredulous look upon his face as if to say; 'don't you dare!' but Shawn had suddenly taken a sharp right toward the bins.

"Where are you going?" Gus asked as he adjusted his own path to match Shawn's again. Then he watched almost in disbelief as Shawn opened one of the wheelie bins in the garbage zone. "You're rooting through the trash?" He asked, his voice clearly showing his disbelief.

"Just for a second." Shawn replied with a distracted tone. Gus scoffed but trusted his friend's instincts and supernatural guide to set them on the right path. He didn't have to enjoy the smell though.

"Look at this. Berenson's brand. That is the highest quality dog food on the market." Shawn was thinking aloud again, a habit he'd learned for both Gus's and his father's sake. If he was quiet, they'd worry that he was under the veil. If he went quiet but voiced his thoughts as they happened, they relaxed. It was like a quit pro quo deal. Though Shawn was vaguely aware that his way of life was about to get turned upside down now that he was involved in helping out the police.

"Perfect." Gus replied, absently, "They pamper their pets." He was impatiently waiting for Shawn to finish with his 'gut-feeling' courtesy of Harriet. His support for his friend and his unique qualities knew no boundaries but his patience for the smell was quickly becoming apparent.

"This stuff is really expensive." Shawn continued in his 'thinking aloud' practiced activity while his thoughts went into overdrive "No additives. No preservatives… why would anyone open three bags simultaneously when you only have one dog?" His question was rhetorical because the answer was unknown at this time and it was just Shawn speaking his thoughts, but Gus responded anyway with his best guess, just to fill the silence.

"They're rich. They waste money." He didn't say it was a smart guess and he wasn't going to apologise for such a cop-out answer either. But that was when Gus noticed someone hanging around at the end of the driveway. He squinted to get a more focussed look at the stranger but the moment they saw him looking, they took off. Red flags instantly waved at him in his head and he quickly grabbed Shawn's arm and practically growled at him. "Inside now." Before steering his reluctant friend into the foyer of the remarkable stately home.

"What is it?" Shawn asked, trusting his friend but a little concerned about his protective behaviour. He only got like that when someone was trying to discredit him with believable evidence and just so that they could label him as a fake for their own value and entertainment.

"Someone at the gates. They scattered the moment I spotted them. Probably that news reporter that kept hounding you last year about that kidnapping case." Gus replied as he tried to see the driveway entrance from the foyer. He couldn't. He was undecided as to whether that was a good thing or not.

"You mean Sally? The red headed Scottish chick with dimples, freckles and a strange fetish for fishcakes?" Shawn asked, clearly remembering the reporter from the previous year. She'd been reporting the case of a young girl who'd gone missing around April. Nobody had seen her, and it had been ruled as a run-away, but Shawn had had a visit from Harriet one night and she'd in no uncertain terms, given Shawn a location and the name of the kidnapper too. He hadn't wanted to just go running to the police because that would have been too suspicious. He'd have been arrested as an accomplice at the very least, just like he'd almost been arrested earlier today. Instead, he'd called his dad, Henry Spencer. Henry had gone with him to the location and scouted it out before coming up with a believable story that would explain why they were out there and how they'd found out about it. With Henry's camping gear still in the truck from his overnight fishing trip by the lakes and with a lake nearby too, they called in the police and had the little girl safely back with her parents and the kidnapper behind bars without anyone thinking Shawn was a wacky idiot or a suspect.

Except for Sally.

Sally, didn't believe the story and had asked a lot of unnerving questions on live television and even though she didn't get any answers that would be concrete evidence of his involvement in the crime, she did unnerve him and it showed in his responses. Making him appear suspicious to her at the very least. So, he did a stupid thing. He made a very big mistake and was apparently still paying for it. He read her mind. Just a snippet to see why she was being so difficult with him and he managed to flash on a few things in her mind that there was absolutely no possible way he could have known about. Her questions continued, and he grew more agitated and eventually just blurted out her secret on live TV… and inadvertently gave her all the ammunition she needed to suspect him further. She was an investigative reporter and it irked her that she couldn't find any physical evidence to put Shawn in any form of judicial light to explain how he knew her secret.

The Police at the time had known about her penchant for bullying her interviewees into reacting in anger or some other negative emotion and so had just written off her comments as insubstantial and unlikely.

"Well looks like she spooked and ran." Shawn surmised before letting the curtains close and turning to look at the grandiose foyer they were stood in. "Is it entirely too early for me to have a theory?" He asked whimsically as he turned to face his brother-friend. Gus gave him a disapproving frown that lacked a lot of heat.

"Can you at least wait until we see some evidence?" He asked, knowing that Shawn was probably already leaps and bounds ahead of any physical evidence present. However, it wouldn't look good if he didn't at least look as if he was trying. Shawn gave him an eye roll and a sigh;

"I suppose I could if it would make you happier." He relented and sauntered past Gus toward the main hubbub with both excitement and dread battling for dominance in his gut.

* * *

It was definitely too soon for an ordinary person to have a theory, but Shawn was getting strong vibrations that pointed to a self-conducted runaway. It wasn't just his psychic vibrations, his eidetic memory, and the years of unrequited training his father had forced onto his childhood had helped him solve the disappearance almost instantly. The bigger question was where did the young heir go and why? One look at the father had him guessing the why, although without digging deeper the details would remain sketchy. The nervous twitch and the sidelong glances at the horizon told Shawn that the man was guilty of something. With the reckless behaviour of the son in recent history, and the lack of honorific photos of the son where there were so many of the daughter, had told him the two had had a rocky relationship. That is if you exclude the many newspaper articles of Camden's antics over the last decade.

It was a vaguely familiar relationship to his with his own father. While Henry Spencer had been supportive in ways a psychic child more than needed, Henry had still been a militant, expectant and demanding figure in his life that commanded a lot of stressful memories between the two. However, Shawn's relationship with his father had never pushed him to the brink of running away, contrary to what his father might think of his itchy feet period some years ago. Shawn _had_ disappeared for a few months, but not because of his father; Harriet had compelled him to do so. Henry and Harriet had never seen eye to incorporeal eye. Henry more than once having stated that she was a conniving temptress and would only lead Shawn into trouble if he continued to listen to her. But Harriet had never steered him wrong and as fate would have it, his trip to Ohio a few years back had introduced him to another psychic who had needed help. But that was a story for another day. Today, was Camden McCallum's story and having just finished the prologue, Shawn was just getting started on chapter one.

Pushing his random thoughts aside, Shawn fell quiet and his gaze was drawn to a family photo above the family room mantle piece. It was a larger photo with the whole family, including the dog. It was set in a forested area and there was a log cabin in the background. The weather seemed warm if the tank-top the hot sister was wearing was anything to judge by. There was a river running along the edge of the photo too.

As soon as he'd taken in the whole picture, Shawn suddenly found himself in a clearing in the forest. Before him was the very same Cabin from the photo. He could hear a dog barking somewhere nearby and the smell of blood was thick and heavy. Shawn was beginning to rethink his previous deduction of run-away but his gut told him that guess was also correct. The two pieces were not lining up and it unnerved him.

"Shawn?" Gus's voice brought him back to the real world with a shiver and a set of fearful eyes. His gaze flashed across the faces of the police gathered in the room, all performing various tasks as they went, but Shawn was looking for the Head detective with a fervour he couldn't fake. Gus knew that Shawn had seen something important.

"I know where Camden is but he's in danger." Shawn gave him as an explanation and then spotted the Head Detective; Detective Lassiter standing to one side with his hands on his hips and surveying the room of activity. "Detective!" Shawn called and moved toward the man. Gus followed half a step behind and watched as Lassiter looked up, appeared to recognise who'd called him and then internally groaned - _to the point Gus just knew that was what the man was doing even if he couldn't actually hear it_ \- at the oncoming headache he knew would follow. Gus mentally braced himself for a fight, he could see it coming a mile away. He just hoped this wouldn't rock Shawn's confidence any further than it had already been knocked about to date.

Of course that was wishful thinking.

"Detective, I know where Camden is, but we have to hurry, he's in danger." Shawn spewed out quickly and was already moving to leave the house, but Lassiter put a hand of the psychic's shoulder to stop him. Gus bristled. No one touches the psychic. Ever. His frown was evident but ignored nonetheless.

"Woah, what are you spouting on about? You can't just go off shouting impossible things and expect me to just follow you like a lost puppy without evidence." The Head detective said condescendingly, and Shawn deflated both from the touch and the disbelief in the detective's voice. Lassiter wasn't going to act with the lack of any physical evidence present.

"Then why did you hire a psychic to help consult?" Gus replied, biting back at the tone of voice the Detective had used.

Detective Lassiter drew himself up to his full height, before replying. "I didn't. the chief did. I was against the idea from the start. Now if you don't mind, I have a very important investigation to conduct. Why do you two play-buddies, run along and dazzle someone gullible with your magic tricks." He dismissed them with a shoo gesture before moving off toward the kitchen. Grumbling about babysitting freaks just because the chief felt pressured.

Gus bristled with the intense urge to smack the detective upside the head but refrained mainly because he didn't have the physical strength nor the bravery to action the thought. That and the guy was a keeper of the law so the legal suits that would follow were not worth the righteous feeling of sinking his fist into the man's nose. Shawn however, seemed to brush it off quickly in favour of getting the victim the help needed. He was already on his way to Gus's blueberry when he called over his shoulder to Gus to follow.

Gus gave the direction the detective had disappeared to another frown before following his friend back to the car.

"Where to now then Shawn?" Gus asked once he'd strapped his seatbelt into place. Shawn didn't hesitate to respond.

"The police station. I need to talk with Chief Vick." He said, his tone brokering no argument. He was dead serious.

Gus nodded to himself and reversed out of the parking space and trundled down the long driveway before asking."Can't you just phone her?" Shawn gave him a sidelong glance that clearly questioned the salesman's IQ.

"As it stands my friend, I don't currently have the Interim Chief of Police on my speed-dial. And going by the detective's behaviour in the parlour just now, I don't think a phone call to the reception of Police will get me any closer." Shawn replied logically. "We need to hurry Gus, if what I saw was true then Camden McCallum doesn't have a lot of time left." The psychic added ominously, and Gus shivered. There weren't many reason he would define as excusable for breaking the speed laws of the roads, but perhaps saving a man's life was one of them.

* * *

 **AN:** So, I deviated. I'm still unsure if this was the right call but I do have muses I can use to take this forward. I will still be revisiting the episodes, specifically my favourite ones in greater detail but on the whole, I think deviating was required for the story to progress. What do you think?


End file.
